


Destiny Thwarted By Fur

by sdwbf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sex with Sentient Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwbf/pseuds/sdwbf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean used to dream he had a little brother, but that was before his father gave him Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny Thwarted By Fur

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this to Live Journal Nov. 20, 2011 when after playing with prompts for days, I got this idea. I called it bestiality since Sam is a dog throughout, but he _is_ Sam, brains and all. Also, as I didn't want to run through the gallery of pre-Bobby care-takers or muck around with when he came into their lives, I've AUed those details as well.
> 
> Also, the last scene is set in Heaven so some might consider it a Death Story, but I, who loathe those beyond all else, don't see it as one and I am, as always, an utter happy ending junkie. YMMV

  
**A Destiny Thwarted with Fur** by sdwbf

Dean Winchester saw his mother die. The sight of her trapped on the ceiling and burning to death robbed him of his voice for almost two years. It also gave him strange dreams. Nightmares, too, but those were easier to understand even for a four-year old.

The dreams started after they went to stay with Uncle Bobby. He overheard stuff that stuck in his head forever. Like "never wanted you to know the truth about what's out there, John" and "Mary must have interrupted the ritual." A lot of that first year was fuzzy. Dean thought he remembered a doll. Had dark hair and hazel eyes and looked a lot like a real baby, but it never moved except for the blinky eyes a lot of dolls had. He liked to hold it and give it a bottle. And he remembered he'd saved it from the fire. Maybe that's when it got broke because Dean thought maybe once it had done more than lay around and blink.

There were strange smells, too, and his own voice saying words he didn't understand. Every time he had one of those dreams he'd wake up to find his father passed out drunk with tears dried all over his face. He remembered the worst of it happening as the moon got bigger. Like three or four days of Daddy drinking, crying and passing out. His dreams were really bad those nights – full of Mommy and his doll come to life. A baby brother, who giggled and even smiled at him.

When he woke up the morning after what he knew was called a full moon, he couldn't find his doll. But it was okay, because that was the morning Daddy gave him Sammy. The puppy had dark fur and hazel eyes like his lost doll, but it squirmed out of Daddy's arms and leaped into Dean's with a happy yip.

Dean laughed as puppy tongue lapped at his face and he was pretty much instantly in love. A good thing because Daddy absolutely forbid him from ever going anywhere without Sammy. He even followed Dean into the bathroom and would bark at Dean until he went outside with Sammy so the pup could do his business.

Uncle Bobby helped Dean train Sammy so the puppy knew voice as well as gesture commands. That was when he wasn't teaching Daddy stuff. Dean knew Daddy and Uncle Bobby had been in the Marines together, that Bobby had been something called a sergeant, and he thought maybe it was something ex-Marines had to do to 'stay sharp.'

Later he'd figure out what a 'hunter' was and start his own training, but in those days Dean watched with Sammy. Unless he was doing lesson stuff. Daddy and Uncle Bobby were 'home schooling' him for kindergarten neither wanting to let him out of their sight until Sammy was big enough to look after him.

Dean didn't understand that. He might only be a little kid, but he knew dogs didn't get to go to school. Except Uncle Bobby got Sammy this vest-like thing that said 'service dog' on it and went to talk to his principal. Somehow it all made it okay for Sammy to stay with him.

Dean was glad. He still hadn't been able to find his words, but when the other kids tried to tease him about it, Sammy moved between Dean and them. He never growled. He was too smart for that. Instead he stared at them until they left Dean alone. That was good too because he felt all uncomfortable around new people. Uncle Bobby said that was because he was shy. But Sammy made certain he wasn't lonely. And not just because Dean had him. No, Sammy also used his puppy eyes and soft fur to encourage a couple of other kids to come sit with Dean. They became good friends, and Dean quickly learned to completely trust Sammy's judgment about people.

He did worry about what would happen as he grew up. Sammy was a small dog, only standing as tall as Dean's waist, and Dean dreaded the day his father and uncle decided his Sammy wasn't big enough to keep Dean safe. Finally the need to plead for Sammy grew stronger than the need for silence.

It was at breakfast. Both Daddy and Uncle Bobby were home – lots of times one of them, usually Daddy, was gone on a hunt – and they were all eating big bowls of oatmeal, while Sammy sat at Dean's feet. "Daddy, I want to keep Sammy." The words came out easily and perfectly because he was smart and had been talking in his head all through his silence.

"Dean-"

"Boy, did you-"

The two men leapt out of their chairs and there was a lot of hugging and he got kissed all while Sammy barked and jumped around all happy. Dean put up with it because he knew he'd worried them all, but he still wanted to know about Sammy. He finally got everyone to calm down enough to insist he didn't want another dog.

Daddy looked all choked up, like he was the one who couldn't find his words, but Uncle Bobby said, "Sammy's always going to be with you."

"But he's so little!"

"Mind's all grown, but his body's got a fair piece to go, Dean."

This was good, but weird news. "He's more than a year old."

Daddy finally managed, "He's a very special dog, Dean. He'll always be as big as you need him to be."

*

Years passed. Daddy became Dad; Uncle Bobby, just Bobby; and as promised, Sammy always grew enough for his back to be even with Dean's waist. Didn't make any sense, but life had taught both Dean and a good chunk of Sioux Falls not to expect it to, so no one ever said anything about that or the fact that Dean's ten year-old dog was as fit as his master.

Master. Right. He and Sammy started going out on simple hunts when Dean turned fourteen. And they were good. 'Scary good' as Bobby put it. They always seemed to know exactly where the other was and could back up each other without even thinking about it. Sammy was freaky strong and knew how to use his jaws to deadly effect when necessary, while Dean could out shoot both his father and honorary uncle. Better with a blade, too. Didn't mean they let him go anywhere near a haunting or evil thing without one of them along, but yeah, he was good. Even his dog got that and took his cues from Dean in the field. But at home? God, Sammy was a pushy bitch.

Take school for instance. If Dean's attention wandered in class for more than two seconds the pile of fur at his feet would nip his leg. If he tried to put off his homework, he got nipped in the ass. So yeah, he had a freaking high GPA. Third in his class. Deliberately. No fucking way was he ending up valedictorian or salutatorian and getting stuck with making speeches at graduation. Sammy huffed at his reasoning, but let him get away with it. Besides, two 'B's in gym (for not dressing) got it taken care of so it wasn't an academic slight.

Stupid dog acted like school was everything, and Dean _knew_ he was taking in every word in Dean's classes and flopping so he could read Dean's books at the same time he did.

Then there was the dating thing. Sammy flat out bit him if he paid too much attention to a girl or another guy. Yeah, he figured if his dog stopped cockblocking him he could happily swing both ways, but no, none of that. The teeth never broke his skin, but the pinch of them was always sharp enough to indicate extreme displeasure. Then there was the sulking. Dog acted like flirting with someone was some freaking act of disloyalty.

After three days of bites strong enough to bruise and an epic sulk brought on by heading off every single girl intent on asking him the spring dance, Dean sat his dog down for a talk. Yeah, he talked to Sammy like most dog owners. But he also knew his understood every single word. Even thought sometimes there was a bigger vocabulary than his own floating around in that furry skull. "Any particular reason you want me to stay a virgin?"

Sammy nodded. The communication thing was a two-way street. Sammy couldn't speak, but Dean never misunderstood what he wanted.

"It a good one?"

Another nod. Dean frowned. Sammy had never lied to him and trusting the dog's judgment had become second nature, but damn.

"Am I going to like it?"

Sammy shrugged. Yeah, it was weird, but the dog did this sort of shoulder motion Dean couldn't describe as anything but a shrug. Not that he was too pleased to see it on this occasion.

"Awesome," he sighed, but from then on, he never flirted with anyone. Except on a hunt to get info. Or with a waitress in charge of pie.

*

Three months short of Dean's seventeenth birthday, Dad climbed into bed with them. He held them close and said he thought he'd found the thing that had killed Mom. "Bobby and I are going to go see an ex-hunter about a weapon we think he has. Should kill the demon. Not just exercise it back to Hell, but kill it."

Dean wanted to go with them. Even begged, until he finally exploded, "Damnit, Dad, I'm a better hunter than both of you!" His eyes widened even as he formed the words. Best hunter alive had sort of been Dad's title for the last several years, and while Bobby often praised Dean's skills, Dad had always been a closed-mouth bastard about such things.

Except instead of cussing Dean out for being an arrogant dick, Dad chuckled. "I know, son. So damned proud of you but, this is my hunt, and I need to know you're safe."

Dean started crying, but that was okay because so was Dad. Sammy even whimpered. They all clung together until dawn, then it was time to say goodbye. "You call Rufus if we don't come back," Bobby said, after they'd exchanged hugs. "Let him take care of the details and play guardian until you graduate, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

Dad pressed a kiss to first Sammy's head, then Dean's forehead. "You two look after each other."

"Yes, sir."

He pressed the keys to the Impala into Dean's hand. "For your birthday."

A sob shuddered through his chest. "Dad, please."

Dad shook his head and walked over to Bobby's truck. Just before he climbed in, he looked back, his eyes clearly taking both Dean and Sammy in, then he said, "I love you."

Dean took a step forward, needing to stop them or to go with them, but Dad ordered, "Sammy, protect him."

Immediately the big dog moved to block Dean's path, his body trembling against Dean's legs. Dean couldn't do anything, but watch the two most important people in his life drive away.

Within days the demon was dead. Bobby came home. Dad didn't.

*

In October of Dean's senior year, Sammy head-butted him all the way to the counselor's office. There he quite pointedly pawed the brochure for Stanford University. "Are you serious?" Dean whined while Mrs. Polanski looked amused. "I don't want to-"

Sammy growled.

"Fine!" Stupid dog even made certain he filled out the application right. Even caught two spelling errors in his essay. Dean had always known the bitch could read.

*

The weeks leading up to Dean's eighteenth birthday were, for the lack of a better word, weird. He'd never failed to know what Sammy was thinking. Bobby hadn't been much of a mystery over the years either. But from New Year's on he kept getting the impression there were whole layers of conversations in the looks those two kept exchanging, and he couldn't begin to figure it out.

Fortunately, the day of his birthday worked out pretty cool. Ninja movie marathon and Bobby made his famous five-alarm chili with corn bread. And there was pie. Carmel apple. With ice cream. Quiet day, but it was the way Dean liked things.

Two days later Bobby looked at a forecast threatening some severe winter weather and announced he'd rather be snowed in with Ellen Harvelle than the two of them. Dean smirked. Bobby had been sweet on Ellen for a couple of years now and he figured it was beyond time things heated up. He said as much. "Cause I wouldn't want you to get empty nest syndrome or anything."

Bobby rolled his eyes and muttered about maybe looking forward to having the place to himself again. Didn't fool Dean at all. He was laying odds for a marriage proposal by the time he headed for California. "You love us and you know it."

"Yeah, well, I've been known to be an idjit myself," Bobby said, shouldering an overstuffed duffle.

Dean chuckled, then the weird returned with the pointed look Bobby gave Sammy. "Behave yourself."

He'd never seen a 'butter can't melt in my mouth' look on a dog before, but Sammy managed it. Like he'd said. Weird.

Bobby took off – would have to put in some serious miles if he wanted to get snowed in at The Roadhouse instead of a hotel along the way. Dean cleaned up the remains of breakfast, then let his pushy dog shoo him into the shower. When he climbed out a few minutes later, Sammy was waiting as always, but he had a downright shifty look.

"Something you're not telling me?" he asked.

Sammy gave him a doggy version of a smirk, then padded out the door. Dean followed because that was the way they worked – where the dog went, he went and vice versa. He stepped into his bedroom and blinked in surprise. All the bedding was on the floor. Sammy had left him while he was in the shower? If it had ever happened before, Dean hadn't noticed. And it wasn't like the dog to be destructive. Except the pile of sheets and blankets looked less destroyed and more … arranged. "Sammy?"

A sharp bark full of command had him dropping to his hands and knees before he even processed a thought. Landed right in the center of the … nest. Sammy's snout nudged at his thighs in a less forceful, but no more optional order, and he spread his legs as wide as he could. Had to lower his chest toward his forearms to keep his balance, a move that presented his ass. Sammy rewarded his obedience by licking his hole.

He groaned loudly, his cock going rock hard in 3.9 seconds. His body quivered beneath the tongue's assault. Getting his bitch nice and wet. Oh, God. He got it now. All those times he'd called Sammy the bitch, when Dean was the real bitch in their relationship. Pre-come began oozing from his cock, dripping down onto the sheet. Already he wanted to come, but a soft growl warned him he wasn't allowed to until Sammy gave him permission. He whimpered, but dropped his head in submission.

Knew Sammy's cock was huge. Dog stood taller on his hind-legs than Dean, and Sammy had licked himself hard before. He'd seen smaller tree branches. And the knot. God, the knot. Dean whined, a frightened needy sound.

Sammy nipped his thigh to punish him for thinking his stud might hurt him, then he went back to eating Dean's ass. "Please," he begged. "I need to come. Please."

A yip gave him permission, and he shuddered through the first orgasm he had because of another's touch. He blushed thinking of all the times he'd jacked himself off in front of the dog, then let Sammy lick his hand clean. He'd been a naughty bitch, taunting his stud for years. A stupid one, too, never putting together how quickly Sammy licked himself after cleaning Dean up.

A heavy weight settled on his back and forelegs wrapped around his torso. He found Dean's hole with the first thrust, pistoning his hips to work himself inside. Hurt. A delicious burning pain that made Dean harden again despite all logic saying he couldn't. Greedy for more, he pushed back, but Sammy's jaws closed on the back of his neck, forcing him to stay still and let his stud use him like a proper bitch. Helpless. Sammy could do whatever he wanted, and Dean couldn't do a thing to stop him. He groaned loudly and spilled onto the sheets again.

His orgasm inspired Sammy, who began pumping away. Hard. Dean groaned and whimpered as each thrust partially lifted him off the sheets. Got hard again, too. Impossible. Bitch made for his stud. Greedy hungry hole. He screamed when the knot breeched him, mewling as it swelled locking them together, his ass filling with Sammy's seed.

Dean came twice more while they were tied, and Sammy turned so they were ass-to-ass. Loved the tickle of fur against his bare thighs. Couldn't stop himself from whining loudly in loss when the knot popped free. Sammy's tongue immediately soothed his hole. Foolish bitch, far from done.

*

Sammy mastered him over the next few days. He kept Dean naked all the time, and fucked him so often his hole oozed constantly. With every bark, growl and nudge, he trained Dean to submit to the dog's whims, and Dean found he loved it. Loved being dominated, giving his body to his Sammy to use as he saw fit. So damned hot.

And then there were the quiet times. They'd always been in almost constant contact. Even in school Sammy slept under his desk with his head across one of Dean's feet, but now they entwined, his naked flesh seeking as much soft fur as he could get. Sammy rewarded him with kisses. Not laps across his face, but lips-to-snout, tongues-dancing-together kisses. And when Dean whispered words of love in a velvety ear Sammy made soft sounds that echoed the sentiment.

By the time Bobby called to say he was two hours out, Sammy had Dean trained to come without making a sound so they wouldn't scar Bobby for life when they continued making love behind their closed bedroom door. Dean didn't doubt for a moment that Bobby knew. Hell, the man had practically told Sammy flat out he was going off to Ellen's so the dog could pop Dean's cherry. He had no idea why Bobby was okay with this, but he wasn't about to question the good fortune of not having to choose between the two of them.

If he'd had any doubts about where Bobby stood on things, his graduation present put them to rest. He'd arranged an apartment for them just off campus. Rent free due to his having saved the owner's family from a Wendigo eight years back. Be no sharing of rooms with another freshman, no closet-sized single room with a thin door between their making love and discovery by a dorm full of other students. It was perfect.

*

Dean had always known he'd be a hunter, but as his time at Stanford rolled along, he found himself more and more wrapped up in academics. He had a dual major of folklore and forensics sciences. Took a lot of time, but they hunted when they could. Same deal when he got his masters, then doctorate in both subjects as well.

The night he finished his final dissertation defense, he let them into their apartment and locked the door behind them. He was trained enough to restore the salt line, then strip off his clothes despite the whirlwind in his mind. Felt like his head was exploding, so he was almost grateful his stud was soon making demands.

The insistent nudge of a snout against his hole had him bracing his hands against the wall and spreading his legs. He sighed softly as Sammy's talented tongue went to work on him, coaxing him out of his thoughts and into heat. Within moments he'd gone from 'really not in the mood' to begging for his dog's knot.

Sammy backed off, his barking ordering Dean into the living room and on his back instead of a command to drop to his hands and knees right there in the entry way. As soon as he settled onto the blankets they kept in front of the fireplace Dean wrapped his legs around Sammy. The cock pushing into him reminded him who he belonged to and that he didn't have to make his decision alone. Thank God. Didn't know what he'd do without his Sammy.

When they finished, Sammy curled up around him, holding him as much as his canine limbs could, and Dean finally dared to say the words out loud. "They offered me a teaching position." Stanford University wanted him on their faculty even though his diplomas hadn't even been printed yet. Totally blew his mind.

Sammy nuzzled him, told him how proud he was of his pretty human. Made Dean snort. Beyond the whole never-ending 'men aren't pretty' argument they constantly waged, Sammy being proud of him made no sense. "It was all you," he said. "I'd have lost interest and dropped out of high school to hunt full-time."

The dog shrugged, not bothering to deny the truth, but insisting he didn't see how that changed the fact Dean had still done the work. "No, Sammy, we're a team. Question is do we stay a team here or switch to hunting fulltime?"

Sammy had a lot to say about it. Dean couldn't explain how he always knew what the dog was trying to say. When he was younger he'd even thought maybe he could read Sammy's mind, but that wasn't it. Somehow he just did. In any case, Sammy told him he understood they had to hunt, but that he did not like the idea of his Dean living off of bad food and petty crime. Nor did he relish the thought of having to be smuggled in and out of crappy hotel rooms that smelled bad enough to make his eyes water.

"Can't say I like the idea either," he admitted. Stupid academic life had spoiled him enough he didn't want to entirely give it up. "So I guess I tell them yes."

*

They went on like they had since the day they'd left Sioux Falls – hunting when they could, focusing on Stanford and gathering information when they couldn't. Dean would be the first to say Bobby Singer had one of the most amazing book collections in existence, but collectors had gotten hold of things over the centuries, squirreling them away in private collections and museums. Dean's credentials gave him access, making him even more unique among hunters.

He was voracious in his research work, publishing in journals to make his reputation soar to even greater heights, giving him even more access while getting what he found out there for other hunters. What was too absurd for a journal, he put in a series of fiction books about two brothers hunting evil. They were wildly popular – although Sammy insisted Dean's handsome face on the dust jackets had as much to do with it as the plots – and let him spell everything out in words of one syllable without any 'civilians' suggesting Dr. Winchester had lost it. Also got him tenure at an absurdly young age.

Ironically, it wasn't the Stanford credentials or the secret life as a part-time hunter that answered a question he'd never known he'd had. Instead a fan of his books sent him a battered portfolio she'd found in garage sale. She'd said it had that 'almost real' feel his books did and she hoped he'd find use for it. God. Thing had so much juice to it, it was scary. He sent her an autographed copy of every book he'd written and dedicated the next one to her, chilled to the bone at the idea of the thing had been floating around where anyone could have picked it up and started 'playing wizard' if not for her.

Took him a few months to read through the whole thing, all while something nagged at him that he'd seen a less battered version of it once before. At least of the cover, because nothing inside had that sense of memory to it. He'd never forget the moment he got confirmation he'd seen it before.. The moment he found the spell. He absorbed the words and his whole world tilted on its axis. Hell, he could almost hear his father's voice saying them, could almost smell the incense burning. "Oh, my God."

*

For the first time in his academic career, Dean played the family emergency card and left his teaching assistant to cover his classes while he and Sammy drove to Sioux Falls. He timed their arrival so Ellen was at the bar she'd opened when she'd moved to South Dakota to set up house with Bobby.

"Boys, what brings-" Bobby started when he opened the door, but Dean shoved past him. "What the hell?"

"When I was a kid, I had this doll," Dean said and Bobby instantly got quiet. "Loved it so much I carried it out of the fire. Then I lost it." He looked at Sammy who was conveying his own outrage by quivering, then Dean tossed the old book at Bobby's feet. "Except I never did, did I?"

"Balls," Bobby sighed. "Best have a seat, boy. I'll get a bottle. This is gonna take a while."

Later Dean would put what Bobby told him in his books. A story about a demon intent on releasing Lucifer from his cage and ending the world by infecting a small number of infants with his blood, but it was thwarted by a combination of written prophecy and scrying done with an older sibling as a focal point. Except in real life when the demon had come to infect baby Sam, Mom had interrupted him and the child's mind had been destroyed instead of his soul damned. No antidote for that or a way to save the damned children. So John Winchester had made a desperate decision. To give his youngest son back a life and keep him safe from the demon, he'd used a transformation spell to turn him into a dog.

"Your daddy always hoped it would be a temporary thing," Bobby said as he poured a third round of whisky. "Thought we'd find a way to kill the demon, then we could reverse what went wrong with the spell and get Sam's brain and humanity back. Managed the first." He shook his head sadly. They all knew the cost of that. "Couldn't find a way to do the rest. And nothing keeps another demon from carrying on what the first one started." He looked at Sammy. "I'm sorry, boy, but the minute you put your human skin back on the best you can hope for is it sounding the starting gun of the Apocalypse."

Given the world-ending stakes, although Sammy was the only one damaged by the demon's tampering, he hadn't been the only one to do a species switch. Spell had been pretty damned thorough on that point – any human with demon blood had gone four-footed. "They all have the hots for a sibling?"

Bobby flinched. "No, that was my doing."

Dean stared at him for a moment. "Care to explain that?"

"Just cause someone started out as a human don't change the fact animals don't live as long as humans."

Dean shivered at the reminder he should have lost Sammy more than a decade ago. Instantly a big head settled against his thigh, comforting him. Sammy might be pissed, too, but they were still in love with each other. "You bound his life force to mine," he whispered, petting the beloved fur.

Bobby nodded.

"And the others are all dead."

"Last one died eight years ago." He said the words in a voice full of sorrow and self-loathing. "Did our best to make sure they all had good lives. Just not the ones God intended." He sighed. "Never wanted you boys knowin' the truth. Even destroyed the book the spell was in, just never counted on there being a copy of it out there."

Dean didn't quite know what to say to that. He'd planned on confronting Bobby, finding out why the hell he and Dad had done this to Sammy, then making it his life's mission to restore his brother. Now, he wasn't so sure.

He helped Bobby into bed to sleep it off, then he and Sammy retreated to their old room. They talked a long time. They were in love. Might not be if he changed back. Then there was the whole brain-dead and/or Apocalypse-bringer aspects. He knew enough about magic that he didn't even consider a 'change him back and see what happens' approach. Spell wouldn't work a second time, so if he broke it, they'd be stuck with the results. Big risks, but ones Dean knew he'd take if Sammy wanted to.

It was Sammy who pointed out while he'd never exactly been a normal dog, he really didn't know how to be a human either. And Dean had never had to function without Sammy at his side. So even if all the doomsday fears Dad and Bobby'd had failed to come true, odds were good at least one of them wouldn't be able to handle the change. In the end they decided the risks were too high. They wouldn't change anything.

**Epilogue**

Twenty-six days after his ninety-third birthday, Dean climbed into bed knowing he wouldn't wake up again. It wasn't that he felt bad. But some sense he'd learned never to ignore told him his time was up.

He couldn't find it within himself to argue much. He'd lived a good life. Done a lot of good, too. All with Sammy at his side. The big dog crawled into their bed and snuggled up close like he always did. "You feel it, too, don't you?"

A soft sound of agreement held no fear. They'd had a good run, but it was time to go. Only regret either of them had was they'd not had the stamina to make love for more than a year now, and both missed it. But they kissed for almost an hour before drifting off into a final sleep.

To his surprise Dean woke up at sunrise like he always did. For a moment he'd thought he'd been wrong, then he noticed the differences in the room. Brighter, finer, and the sunlight was a warm glow versus something coming from a single star rising over the horizon.

Funny how he noticed all those things before he noticed paws had turned to hands, and arms, not forelegs held him close. But he noticed the voice quickly enough. "Dean."

"Sammy." He looked at his brother's face and saw a handsome man with hazel eyes and floppy brown air the same shade as his former fur. Body pressed against him was rock hard, with well-sculpted muscles and broad shoulders. It was a … familiar sight. While he'd never had a conscious memory of it, he realized he'd dreamed of this man frequently.

Part of Dean wanted to leap out of bed and go find those they'd lost over the years. Especially Mom, Dad, Bobby and Ellen, but the eyes held him transfixed and he found he wanted one thing above everything else. The answer to a question. "You still in love with me?"

"God, yes," he answered, then he set about proving it. Turned out, since it was Heaven and all, Sam still had a knot.

end


End file.
